Sometimes relief
Comes slow
Or not at all
And those are long
Thirsty
Days.
Looking at the mirage
Of hope.
So
goes
hours
Of dragging
Through sand,
Time lapses
Slower
Than
Starts that
Don’t go.
Attempting to preserve a glimmer of joy,
Youthful innocence’s blessed to succumb to wizened depths –
Days spent watching
Change.
We play in the shadows
Until we outgrow them.
Caught growing in menacing strings
Feeling for wall
Stretched tall, up against shadows
Toeing sunlight
Fighting against the inevitable tomorrow.
Don’t give up hope.
It’s all part of the game.
She picked up the phone and heard her conscience gasp
At the chance of her listening to what’s wrong.
I got a good view of the warning signs,
Those flash flood signals that tell of times when preservation’s thrown against jagged rock’s end.
I see what’s coming like
Raging rapids white with flustering rage.
This waterz not gonna bathe
Me clean.
It’s gonna bring pain Life springs onto
Eroded defenses.
At least this time
I can see it coming.
I can’t decide if I should
Fight to keep standing
(Even if for moments),
If that means I’ll be taken over by stronger currents of
Passion.
Or if I should
Take the fall
Gracefully.
Surrender to
The gravity
Of my condition.
Doesn’t matter though.
Either way I’m gonna end up face up with my prayers finding a better day.
With water in my lungs
And broken glass on my tongue
I will
Float
On.
Somebody told me once,
about a girl who faded away.
Sorting through hr box of knives,
Sharpened by daylight.
Dusty with dark corners’ secrets;
She likes jagged edge against hr soft underside.
Tempted to run along the sharp side;
cut skin with thin lines of fine
steel.
It feels good
To do what she shouldn’t.
It feels good
To give in to temptation.
She sees something dark in hr reflection
Upon the blades –
There they are lined up pointing back at hr,
Begging for some flesh.
